


Nothing Better

by littlebluecaboose



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Choking, Exhibitionism, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebluecaboose/pseuds/littlebluecaboose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on the Kinkmeme for the prompt: "Mild-mannered Sole Survivor turns out to be very dominant in bed, enjoys rough sex and dirty talk. Danse realises that wow, he had no idea this would get him going but it does. Cue awesome sex for them both.</p>
<p>Even if it doesn't get filled, thanks for reading the prompt ;)"</p>
<p>NOTE: Eddie's name has been changed to the default Nate in this fic because his character has been changed. I'm not stealing this fic from myself, I just edited it between there and here. Thanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Better

Nate gives Trashcan Carla a charming smile as he trades a pile of weapons and armor for an assortment of utter garbage and caps. Danse tries not to look to utterly smitten as he pretends to be doing maintenance on his power armor, although based on the tone of the conversation Piper and Nick seem to be having, he’s not sure he’s succeeded. 

Nate is utterly novel to, well, everyone, adapting to the wasteland as much as he shapes it to himself, leaving little bits of old world comfort in his wake, giving tired, grubby settlers even just a moment of the peace of mind that must have accompanied his old life. It’s not that he’s weak, as more than a few dead raiders, synths, and a handful of unlucky deathclaws could attest to; nor is he a pushover or bleeding heart, forgetting his greater purpose for insignificant tasks. He’s just practical, in more ways than Danse could possibly count.

“How’s it going, big guy?” Danse looks up from a particularly stubborn screw as Nate sits next to him, the junk already stashed somewhere in the truck stop’s workshop. Danse tilts his head, gesturing at the screw, which is now hopelessly stripped. The one good thing about the junk Nate insists on hoarding is that there’s always some old lamp to break down for parts. 

“Could be better. Thanks to those mirelurks, this armor’s far beyond acceptable condition. I’ll have to get it back up to standard before heading out again.” Nate grins, the genuine smile that makes his face crinkle up, and he leans forward to rest his chin on Danse’s shoulder, taking a moment to savor the warmth of his undersuit, from both his skin, and from the late fall sunlight. 

The sun’s already starting to dip below the horizon; it’ll be too cold to be outside, shortly, everyone retreating inside the makeshift settlement that Nate’s constructed for his inner circle.  
“And how are you doing?” Nate says, giving Danse a look that’s a little too knowing.   
“What do you mean? I haven’t been injured recently, and if my combat performance has been lacking-”

“Your performance has been fine,” Nate starts, giving Danse’s thigh a teasing squeeze, and earning himself that startled deer look that Danse is so good at. “I’m asking how you’re holding up. A lot’s happened recently, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Danse sighs, fiddling with the screwdriver, staring at his hands. He shakes his head. “Probably as well as can be expected. I keep half expecting this to just... all be a dream.” He leans in to press his forehead to Nate’s briefly, before he looks away again, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m still not sure if that’d be a relief or a disappointment.”

Nate presses his face against the side of Danse’s neck. “Believe me, I’ve had the same thought.” They sit there for a long moment, sun slipping below the horizon as Danse turns his head. “I believe you had something to say about my performance?” Innuendo is as natural to Danse as ballet to a deathclaw, but it’s endearing nonetheless.

Nate sits up, a devious glint in his eyes. “Well, if you’re concerned, I’m sure I could give you some pointers.” Danse’s eyebrows are making a valiant attempt at escaping into his hairline. He and Travis should get jerseys, Nate thinks. Or maybe they can compete for the title of “Most Flustered When Flirted With”, although with Nate’s recent intervention, Travis seems to be less likely to win that competition. 

“I, uh, that would be- I mean. Training is always vital to any opera-” Danse starts, but is quickly cut off by the warm press of Nate’s lips against his, a small point of warmth in the rapidly cooling night air. Nate’s hand is distinctly not warm when it comes up to press against the side of Danse’s neck, the heel of his hand resting close enough to Danse’s trachea to be concerning, and maybe more than a little bit possessive.

Nate doesn’t revel in bloodshed, views combat with a bone-weary resignation, but he does enjoy this, taking Danse apart, making him surrender in ways he didn’t even know he could. He deepens the kiss, nipping at Danse’s lower lip to get him to open his mouth. Someone- probably Cait or Hancock- whistles at them from over by the garage, and Nate tightens his grip on Danse’s neck to keep him from pulling away, trying to run off somewhere to be embarrassed alone. Danse had been skittish enough about being involved with Nate, and it’s clear that he’s uncomfortable with the fact that their gathered group of misfits gossip like old maids. 

Nate breaks the kiss, staying close enough to Danse that they’re still breathing the same air. “Get this packed up and meet me inside when you’re done.” He pushes himself to his feet, going to do his nighttime checkins with everyone, leaving Danse to try and compose himself and pack up his tools.

Danse makes his way inside just as Nate finishes saying goodnight to Dogmeat, and he gives the dog’s ears a little scratch as he follows Nate into the bedroom. Nate pushes the door shut as Danse passes, giving his ass a little smack. Danse makes an aborted high pitched noise and tenses briefly, making Nate grin. It’s adorable how easy it is to fluster Danse, after how serious and intense he is in battle, but he’ll be even less composed than this by night’s end if Nate has anything to say about it. 

Nate leans in to kiss Danse, sloppier and rougher than before, now that there’s nobody immediately nearby. He’s got one hand fisted tight in Danse’s hair, the other wrapped loosely around his throat, not pressing down, just present, carefully controlling the situation. Danse makes a low, needy noise into Nate’s mouth, lets himself be guided backwards to the bed, barely breaking contact as Nate pushes him down onto it.

There’s a knee nudging between Danse’s thighs, and he lets his legs fall open, moaning quietly into Nate’s mouth. Nate pushes his knee up harder, harder than most men would have appreciated, but Danse isn’t most men, and he has to break the kiss to turn his head and bite his lip in an attempt to quiet the noise that’s bubbling up in his chest. Nate keeps grinding his knee up against Danse as he tugs Danse’s undersuit open, biting at his newly exposed collarbone. 

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you, baby?” Nate’s breath ghosts across reddened skin as he speaks, and he feels Danse’s body shift underneath him. Nate can feel how hard Danse is against his knee, the way his solid, muscular stomach shifts with his shallow breaths.

Nate leans away, standing up to rummage through the trunk at the foot of the bed. He returns with a small container of vegetable oil; he’s often fantasized about what kinds of terrible things he’d do for some actual lube, but the oil works well enough.

“You’d better get naked fast,” he says, relishing how quickly Danse scrambles to sit up enough to strip all the way out of his undersuit. “Hmm, someone’s certainly eager. You really want my cock that much, huh?” 

Danse doesn’t say anything, but he turns away and violently blushes, making a half-hearted attempt at hiding his face behind one hand. Nate kneels over him again, shoving his hands under Danse’s thighs, lifting and spreading them. Danse’s cock bobs slightly against his stomach, reddened and heavy, and leaking slightly. Nate runs one finger along the side of it, trusting Danse to keep his legs where they should be. Danse whimpers, louder now that he’s had to move his hand from his mouth to keep his legs open. 

Nate pulls his hand away and carefully coats his fingers in oil, then drizzles some over Danse’s hole too, dragging his thumb across it to watch the way Danse’s face twists with the effort of not being too loud. Fucking Danse where they can be loud is always fun, watching Danse’s impressive vocabulary diminish to curses and shouts and Nate’s name, but watching Danse try to stay quiet at the truck stop while everyone else goes about their business just outside is enjoyable too.

Danse bites down hard on his lower lip as Nate works one long finger inside him, gentle and slow for a moment before it’s gone again, and then Nate’s back, two fingers this time, and he hears Danse’s breath catch, his body tensing before he forces himself to relax. He pushes against empty air when Nate withdraws them, pushing three inside this time. It’s too fast, too much, and Danse loves it, soft breathy noises escaping him as Nate roughly prepares him. Nate certainly enjoys toying with Danse, fingering him for what feels like hours, but right now he’s hard and if he takes too long, he’s going to lose all control of the situation.

Danse makes a noise that could only be described as a whine when Nate pulls his fingers loose.  
“You good?” Nate asks, taking a minute to appreciate what a pretty picture Danse makes, fingers digging into his own thighs, his hole red and slick, cock heavy against his stomach, lips parted as he pants, hair somehow more of a mess than normal. He nods, and Nate leans in to kiss him as he slicks his own cock, the friction of his own hand a teasing hint of what’s to come. 

Nate leans back to line himself up and push in, taking a moment to rest his forehead against Danse’s when he bottoms out, watching the way Danse’s face screws up with pleasure and the desperate attempt to stay quiet. Nate considers taking his time, but it’s been a long week and Danse is already on edge enough.

He sets a punishing pace, fucking Danse like he’s trying to put the bed through the wall, Danse letting go of one of his thighs to muffle the way he’s moaning. Nate can hear the cut off shout Danse makes when Nate finally gets a hand on Danse’s cock, and it’s all over too soon from there, Danse jerking almost to a sitting position as his orgasm hits him, clenching tight against Nate, Nate pushing in deep and biting blindly at whatever part of Danse’s chest is most available as he follows soon after.

Nate extracts himself from between Danse’s thighs and gets them cleaned up on autopilot, mind still swimming after his orgasm. He comes back to himself as he flops down next to an already half asleep Danse. He’s still awake enough to wrap his arms around Nate’s body and pull him close, though. 

There’s worse places to fall asleep, Nate figures, than curled up next to the man you love.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna talk about sub!Danse? Love to sin? Want to chat about the inevitable heat death of the universe? Hit me up at littlebluecaboose on tumblr!


End file.
